


The Benefactor

by themusingsofafangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mobster Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-22 00:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14297148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themusingsofafangirl/pseuds/themusingsofafangirl
Summary: Dean is at his whit's end when he loses his wallet. Luckily the person who picks it up takes an interest in helping Dean succeed.





	The Benefactor

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a Tumblr prompt I came across in the Destiel Forever FB group. This piece has been unbetaed so apologies for any errors. A follow up chapter should be posted shortly!

Castiel Novak looked down at the worn object next to the polished toe of his shoe. The contrast in leather was striking, the wallet imprinted with the shape of cards and faded and tearing along the edges, the wingtip shiny and unblemished. He bent down to pick it up, weighing the relative lightness in his hand as his thumb traced the stitching. 

Sensing the growing impatience of his companions, Castiel slipped the wallet into his jacket pocket and continued on with his day. 

~*~

“Fuck.” Dean patted down his pockets for the third time. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” It wasn’t there. His wallet was gone. His wallet with his limited remaining cash, multiple fake credit cards, and drivers license was gone. The money wasn’t much, but it was going to be their dinner that night. Or at least there was enough to make sure Sammy would get something to eat. 

He checked his pockets again. Nothing. Unlocking his car, he slid into the driver’s side and paused. He looked around the Impala, desperately he ran his hand between the edges of the seats and underneath the console. His efforts were rewarded with six quarters and a dime. Certainly not a fortune, but Dean knew he could make it work. 

~*~

As Castiel’s day continued, the wallet sat heavy in his pocket. When he got home that evening, he finally took it out to examine its contents. The bill fold was scantly populated with some worn dollar bills and a couple of fives. The ID pocket held the photo of a boy, maybe ten or so, with a wide, toothy grin. It was a school photo and the boy’s clothing was worn but clean and well mended. 

In the pocket above rested an drivers license. The photo showed a young man, his stare direct and his face unsmiling. His face was angular, underfed. Castiel recognized the hunger in his eyes. It was a hunger he had once felt himself. The name, Dean Winchester, seemed innocuous enough. That is, until Castiel compared it to the names on the credit cards in the wallet. James Herrin. Philip Peterson. Anthony Glazer. 

Castiel laid the contents of the wallet out on his desk, piecing together the mystery the wallet presented. He wondered at the relationship between the man on the license and the boy in the photo. They looked far too close in age to be father and son. Perhaps brothers? 

He picked up the license again and traced the face staring back at him. Dean Winchester. The man with the hungry eyes. Tapping the license against the desk, Castiel turned towards his computer and typed the address into his browser. An advertisement for a long term motel popped up and he shuddered at the thought of ever sleeping there. It was the seedy sort of place that smelled of regrets and sadness. 

He looked at the photo of the boy again and then back at the photos of the motel. His mind made up, he returned to his web browsing with a deliberate smile on his face.

~*~

A few days later, Dean’s wallet still hadn’t shown up. He had decided to bite the bullet and bought a new one at Goodwill after a particularly good night of tips. He diligently set aside a portion of each night’s take home pay for the various needs that popped up outside his meticulous budget. Needs like new pants for Sammy, who for some godforsaken reason was still getting taller. Needs like a replacement license so that he wouldn’t need to pay an absurdly large ticket if pulled over. Needs like the rare and expensive part the Impala would surely need soon.

That morning, Dean was getting ready to head to his first job when there was a knock at the door. He went to open it and startled the postal worker outside. “Can I help you?” He asked gruffly.

“Dean Winchester?”

“Yeah?”

“Package for you. Please sign here.” Dean took the proffered pen and dutifully signed. He took the package, nodded a goodbye, and closed the door. Deciding that work could wait a moment or two, he sat down and stared at the box.

It was nondescript. Brown, cardboard, clear packing tape. The return address was a post office box on the other side of town. No name. He took out his pocket knife and slid it along the seam. He slowly opened the flaps, tugging slightly as the tape caught. Inside the box sat a letter resting on a pillow of neatly folded clothes. 

Leaving the clothing, he took the letter and pulled open the flap. As he pulled out the card inside, his license slipped out. He quickly put aside the card to return his ID to his wallet before continuing. The letter was on heavy stationary, written in flowing cursive with sparkling ink. 

_Dear Dean,_

_I hope the loss of your wallet has not inconvenienced you overmuch. I have  here your license which seemed the most essential of your cards. The others, of course, must have been one’s you were planning to return to their rightful owners._

_I have also included some clothing for the boy in the photo. My mother always said it was impossible to keep me clothed at that age, and I figured it would not hurt to send a little something along._

_I hope that this small surprise brings you some joy._

It ended there. No signature. No sign off. Dean set the card aside and picked up the clothing. There were some jeans, miraculously long enough for Sam, as well as some shirts and socks. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to postpone the inevitable trip to the store for more clothes. 

Dean put the clothing on Sam’s bed and hid the box and card. Taking some of the hotel stationary, he penned a thank you note in reply.

_Thank you, who ever you are. I know Sammy will be thrilled about his new clothes. He’s almost 12 now and is growing like a beanstalk. I swear, I wake up and he’s a foot taller! Thank you for the license too. I was setting aside some money for a new one and now I can use that money on Sammy instead._

_Once again, thank you. I don’t think you know how much of a difference this makes for me._

_\- Dean_

~*~

Castiel was reviewing the notes from a transaction not so long after sending the gifts to Dean and was interrupted when his assistant, Bartholomew, knocked lightly on his door.

“Excuse me, sir, but this was dropped off.” He held a letter in his hands. There was no name on it, simply an address. Castiel recognized the address immediately. It was one of the many post office boxes he held around town. Given the nature of his work, it was necessary to have many options for communication. 

He took the letter and barely noticed as Bartholomew left the room. The minute the door was closed Castiel ripped open the letter and read its contents eagerly. He smiled as he learned just how much Dean appreciated the gift and he appreciated how personal the note was. Dean’s love for his brother clearly shone through. 

Reading the line about Dean spending more money on Sammy made it clear to Castiel that Dean Winchester was not one to put himself first. His mind made up, Castiel resolved to show Dean Winchester the care that he did not show himself. 

Castiel summoned Bartholomew back into the office. “Yes, sir?”

“Here.” Castiel handed over a photocopy of Dean’s drivers license. “I need you to find out everything you can about this man.”

“Should I schedule a clean up?”

“Absolutely not! Dean is a friend of mine and hopefully will be a friend of our organization.” 

“Yes, sir.”

“And Bartholomew?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Dean is to know nothing about this.”

“Of course, sir.”

 

~*~

Within a week, Dean was startled once more by the postal worker with another anonymous package. It contained another note, which referenced his own letter, as well as a beautiful shaving set. Dean had been puzzled at the contents until the note clarified that this was to be a gift for him and not for Sam. Dean dutifully sent another thank you note and this pattern continued for the next few months. The next package had shoes. Then there was one with the photo of Sammy from his old wallet and tickets to a movie they had wanted to go to. Another showed up filled to the brim with food. And then there was one with a laptop. The gifts kept escalating and Dean continued to pour his heart out to his mysterious benefactor with no information provided in return.

~*~

Bartholomew quickly learned that Castiel wanted every letter from Dean promptly delivered. No matter what catastrophe had hit the organization, Castiel would immediately pause what he was working on to read the newest intimate look into Dean Winchester’s life. Castiel treasured these notes, an insight into a world he was no longer a part of. A peek into the earnest survival of Sam and Dean Winchester. 

He hadn’t thought that continuing on the exchange was much of a problem until Naomi had asked why he spent so much of his time obsessing over gifts for Dean. Castiel had tried to explain and Naomi simply rolled her eyes in response, say “If you’ve got such a crush on him, ask the man out!”This set in mind Castiel’s next idea for a gift, and he quickly put his plan into action. 

_~*~_

Dean, now used to the extravagant gifts, was puzzled when one day only an envelope was delivered. He opened it and pulled out the note. There was a key attached to the bottom of the page.

_Dean,_

_Please forgive me if I overstep the boundaries of our relationship, but I think we are far past the point where a formal introduction is necessary. I have taken the liberty of purchasing this house for you. There are no strings attached to this. The house is fully paid for and mostly furnished._

_Should you also desire to meet, I will be waiting in the living room on Thursday around 7pm. If you would prefer not to know me, you are welcome to move in Friday morning and I will not contact you again. The address is enclosed in the envelope._

_Castiel_

 

Dean dug through the envelope and found a small business card with a realtor’s name and address information. Castiel. Dean had never heard a name like that before. To think his anonymous benefactor had a name! Of course, conceptually Dean had always known that was the case, but being confronted with the reality was entirely different. He knew, without a doubt, that he wanted to meet this Castiel. 

 

~*~

Thursday came quickly and drove over to the house, arrive just before seven. He stood on the stoop of the house and watched as his watch hit seven. He lightly knocked on the door and stepped back, adjusting his jacket and tugging at his collar. He waited, fidgeting, as he heard steps approach the door. 

~*~

Castiel paused, his hand resting on the door knob. He took a deep breath and swung open the door. 

“Hello, Dean.” 


End file.
